Hell's Orchestra
by YamatoKai
Summary: Sequel to "Heat". Winter is over, and the Empire aims to knock the Federation out of the war once and for all. All that stands between Tanya von Degurechaff and a peaceful life is a single city on the Volga river. What could go wrong?
1. Chapter One: Opening Acts

**Chapter One: Opening Acts**

It started simply enough, with a briefing like any other.

The only indicator to Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff that anything might be amiss was the sheer amount of attendees. At a glance, it looked as if the entire leadership of the Empire's Central and Eastern Army Groups had convened in one auditorium. Logically, she knew that was ridiculous. The amount of staff officers needed to conduct an operation on the scale of their current counter-invasion of the Federation would not fit in the university lecture hall that the Imperial Army had commandeered. But the sea of gold and silver braided epaulettes highlighting the crowd of attendees was truly remarkable.

Just as remarkable was how many faces she recognized as fellow _Kampfgruppe _commanders. Men who should have been rushing around the front putting out fires were instead, like her, called back to attend a briefing. While it wasn't unheard of for _Kampfgruppen _to be pulled back within the lines for retasking and reorganizing-indeed, their ad-hoc and goal-oriented nature encouraged altering the composition of the unit to better suit their objectives-a total recall of so many at once could really only mean one thing.

The Imperial Army had decided to switch things up.

That wasn't exactly surprising to Tanya. After all, aside from the early successes of March and April when the Empire was still close to its supply lines, their advance towards Moskva had ground to a near halt. It was slow going, but worse, it was costly. And a costly victory went against the principles of the attritional containment doctrine enforced by the General Staff. Knocking the Federation out of the war was all well and good, but it hardly mattered if the Empire couldn't maintain enough fighting strength to force the Commonwealth to accept peace. With that being the case, it was only natural for the Imperial Army to change strategies.

So she settled back, trying to look as dignified as she possibly could while sitting in the booster seat someone had fetched for her, and waited for the briefing to begin.

It wasn't long before man she recognized took the stage. Not personally, of course, but she would have been a poor officer indeed if she wasn't able to identify General Frederich von Paul, commander of the Eastern Army Group. Admittedly, he was still somewhat new to the position, having taken over from his predecessor just before the end of the previous winter, but Tanya considered it prudent to keep track on who her superiors and co-workers were.

"Loyal soldiers of the _Reich_," the dark haired man began, standing in front of a large map of the Federation that had been pinned to a board. A swagger stick was clutched in his hands, and he lightly tapped it against his upturned palm. "You are no doubt wondering why you have been called away from the front. The answer is simple. The fact that you are here means that you and the men under your command have been chosen for a vital role in our next move, codenamed Operation Attila."

Turning, he took his swagger stick and pressed the tip to the map, circling the area between the Imperial Army's furthest salient and the Federation capital. "The General Staff has decided to abandon the drive on Moskva for the time being, after judging the defenses between us and the city to be too heavy to be worth storming. Fortunately, new intelligence has uncovered an alternative."

The stick relocated south, being positioned squarely in the center of the "nation" that was currently hosting this gathering, the Republic of Ukrayiny. "As you are no doubt aware, the Empire has graciously begun transitioning occupied territory over to civilian rule, and assisting the ethnic groups formerly oppressed by the Communist government in establishing their own independent nations. In response to this policy, many of the periphery regions of the Federation have erupted in seperatist revolts, some of which have been extremely successful. In particular, reports indicate that the Reds have entirely lost control of the central Eurasian Steppe. Not only has this threatened the Federation's attempts to transfer industry to the east, it presents us with an opportunity to pincer the enemy's southernmost flank and potentially wipe them out.

This would further reduce the enemy's available strength and capture yet more of their vital industry, of course, but it would also allow us to strike at the rich oil fields of the Caucasus. With our new allies selling us grain and the oil of the Caucasus at our disposal, we would be able to effectively ignore the Commonwealth's blockade. And once the Federation is finished off, we may even be poised to launch a strike into the Raj, to force an end to the war should the Commonwealth still refuse to see reason."

Tanya found herself nodding along to the spiel. It was hopelessly optimistic, of course, but the core logic was sound. The Federation had focused their efforts on defending the approach to Moskva, so they would make that effort entirely wasted by attacking somewhere else. Although, something about this entire situation seemed oddly familiar.

As she mulled that over, General von Paul stabbed his swagger stick at a point along one of the massive rivers stretching through the Federation. "With these goals in mind, our primary objective will be the city of Josefgrad, along the Volga river."

Tanya's thoughts screeched to a halt. _...you've got to be kidding me._

"From Josefgrad, we will be able to advance in any direction. South, into the Caucasus, east, to connect our lines with the territory controlled by the Qazaq separatists, or north, to outflank Moskva's defenses," von Paul continued, unaware of Tanya's rising panic.

_First we get Dunkirked, now we're being thrown into Stalingrad?! _she wanted to scream. _Urban warfare is the exact opposite of minimising casualties! Is the General Staff __**trying **__to lose the war?_

The briefing continued as the General outlined the basic plan for the approach to the city itself, but Tanya found it hard to pay attention. All she could think about was the absolute disaster slowly unfolding before her. Her only hope was that a small, mobile force like her _Kampfgruppe _wouldn't be chosen for a meat grinder like that. _If you insist on throwing away lives, please don't include mine in that!_

She took a deep breath. Maybe she was overreacting. The Empire wasn't the Germany of the world she remembered. There was no _Führer _to override the military's decisions and risk everything for a propaganda victory. With luck, even if the assault went poorly, the brass would avoid falling victim to the sunk cost fallacy and make the call to abandon the city before the losses became ruinous.

_I can hope, right? _she thought glumly.

"...that is the basic course of action the Imperial Army has decided upon," von Paul was saying as she returned her attention to the briefing. "Now, I'm certain some of you have questions or perhaps suggestions, so I will now allow for discussion. Please raise your hand if you have something to say, and I will call you out by your seat placement."

Immediately several hands went up, Tanya's among them. However, she quickly realized a problem as the General's eyes scanned the crowd. Even with the added height from the high chair she had been provided, her extended arm was still far shorter and harder to spot than those of her fellow officers. Not for the first time, she cursed her tiny stature.

"Second row, fourth from the right."

A man ahead and to her right stood and asked an inane question about how best to approach the city, and received an equally inane answer. He sat back down, and Tanya went back to waving her own arm as energetically as she could while remaining within proper decorum. But despite her best efforts, General von Paul continued to call on other officers, officers who added very little of value. Her frustration built as no one seemed willing to ask what to her was the most obvious question.

Finally, just as she was ready to give up entirely, von Paul's eyes paused on her. "Third row, fifth from the left."

It took her a moment to confirm that yes, that was her seat, before she hopped off her seat and stood at drill-perfect attention. She resolutely ignored the fact that doing so had made her even harder to spot within the crowd.

"Sir!" she began, a simple volume amplification spell allowing her voice to carry through the auditorium. The men seated nearest to her winced slightly at the sudden noise, but she ignored them. "If I may ask, what was the reasoning behind selecting Josefgrad as our primary target?"

_I swear, if we're just doing this to get one over on Comrade Josef…_

Thankfully, that wasn't the answer von Paul gave. "Josefgrad is the largest industrial center along the southern Volga, and is a major rail hub in the region. It is also the site of a large rail bridge over the river, which is both a vital artery in the Federation's supply line to the Caucasus, and a perfect method for our army and supply train to get across the river itself."

"What's stopping the enemy from destroying the bridge when we approach?" she asked. It wasn't like the Communists to leave something for them to use. _Their entire ideology is built on throwing a tantrum and wrecking all the toys because someone else has more than them, after all._

"They are likely hesitant to do so, due to the bridge's importance to their own logistics. In addition, its size and construction would make any attempt to prepare it for demolition slow and obvious."

_Ah. I see._

"The engineers attempting to wire the bridge would be sitting ducks for Aerial Mages," Tanya surmised, beating the General to what she thought was likely his point. "Even if they couldn't hold the bridge permanently, repeated strikes would prevent the enemy from sabotaging it."

The room went silent for a moment, and Tanya again was irritated by her short stature as she couldn't see very well past the man seated in front of her. Unable to gauge the General's reaction, she could only hope she hadn't annoyed the man by finishing his sentence for him.

"...An excellent suggestion, Colonel von Degurechaff," he finally said, making Tanya feel a strange mixture of alarm and relief. Alarm at the fact that the General both knew her and chose to call her by name, and relief that he seemed to be extending to her the same courtesy he had to the officers who had spoken before her, complimenting her for pointing out the obvious. "Do you have anything else to add?"

She straightened, even though the man could barely see her. "I have one further question, if you don't mind, sir."

"Go ahead."

"Much of our strategy against the Federation has relied on the use of small, mobile _Kampfgruppen _in tandem with larger units, but this seems impractical in an urban environment. Do you have a plan for utilizing _Kampfgruppe_-scale units in the upcoming operation?" she asked. Hopefully the answer was no, and her unit could be transferred far away from any potential city fighting.

Another pause ensued, perhaps to allow the General to consider the question. "As ad-hoc formations, _Kampfgruppen _will be formed and dissolved as the situation demands. Rest assured, Colonel, that the correct people will be chosen for every task."

For some reason, Tanya von Degurechaff felt a chill go up her spine at that response.

* * *

As the surface of the Volga skimmed by below her, Tanya could only wonder if maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

Ahead, the Dzhugashvili Railway Bridge stretched across the river, a giant of concrete and metal. Her _Kampfgruppe, _her ticket to the wonderful world of commanding from the rear, had been broken up yet again, and she'd somehow been forced back into commanding her old Battalion. Really, it was a wonder Weiss hadn't complained about having his new job taken away so soon.

Well, there wasn't much she could do about the situation. It mattered little whether you were a cog in a corporate or military machine, a cog was still a cog. It did as it was told, or else it was replaced. That said, summary executions for dereliction of duty were certainly a bit less common in the private sector.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she addressed her men as they drew closer to the bridge. "Alright everyone, listen up! The Reds seem to think they can tear down this city's infrastructure without even getting a permit! It's almost like they've forgotten who's in charge here."

She paused. Predictably, her unit of war-crazed veterans threw in their own jeers aimed at the enemy. In a way, their lust for battle made them easier to handle. All she had to do was give a gung-ho speech like a character from some sort of bad action movie, and they were fired up and ready to go.

"Well, it's up to us to remind them! My company will clear the catwalks below the bridge, the rest of you can head up top. And I know this is asking a lot, but try to keep an eye out for any Commies that look slightly more educated than the rest. Command continues to assure me they exist," she quipped, pausing again to give the men a chance to laugh at the Communists' expense. Once they were done, she continued. "The more of their engineers we take out, the longer it will take for them to try something like this again. You're fighting for your R&R time here!"

As they cheered, Tanya narrowed her eyes at the approaching bridge. A simple spell formula layered over her eyes, sharpening her vision. She gave its surface only a cursory glance, spotting several Federation soldiers through the iron struts making up the bridge's truss as they moved back and forth, before lowering her gaze to the catwalks hanging under the bridge and off its sides. As she expected, the Rus down there were focused on carting explosives and wire to the large concrete supports dotted along the length.

_With any luck, disarming those will keep us occupied until the rest of the Battalion is done with the real fight up top, _she thought with a smile, hefting her gun. _Sorry Weiss, but at my rank I really don't belong on the front anyway._

"Battalion! _Feuer frei!_"

With a final burst of acceleration, the 203rd surged up from the river's surface and towards the bridge. Tanya paid her subordinates no mind as their Companies broke off from hers and continued to ascend, opening up on the surprised Rus with simple unenchanted lead. Throwing artillery spells at a target they wanted to take intact would have been rather stupid, after all.

Against mages, an assault using unenchanted weaponry and no offensive formulae would have been ill-advised. Against infantry who hadn't even heard of kevlar? She was certain her men would be fine. She'd made sure to have everyone bring some formula bullets anyway, just in case.

So she focused on her target. A pair of soldiers carrying a crate of explosives along the catwalk, no doubt heading towards one of the supports. They were just beginning to turn their shocked faces in the direction of the sudden gunfire when she slammed into their cargo, feet first. The wooden crate was ripped from their grasp in a spray of splinters, the shock sending them stumbling back into the railing. She twisted in the air, repurposing her acceleration spells to propel her leg into a roundhouse kick that sent the man to her left over the rail. Her eyes darted right, meeting the terrified eyes of the remaining soldier.

And then the butt of Lieutenant Serebryakov's rifle slammed into his face, and he followed his comrade and their supplies into the Volga.

The two landed on the catwalk with a _clang, _and then snapped their weapons up to aim down opposite ends of the walkway. Tanya sighted a man ahead, still struggling to unsling his rifle. A roll of detcord was wrapped around his shoulder, hampering his ability to ready his weapon. With mild pity, she squeezed the trigger, and he went sprawling. Behind her, Serebryakov's rifle cracked as she downed a target of her own, just as two Imperial mages passed under them, firing at the catwalk running along the other side of the bridge.

Taking a quick look around, Tanya didn't see any more enemies that weren't already being gunned down by her men. Lowering her gun, she addressed her wingman. "It looks like they've only managed to wire the supports closest to the east shore. We'll head that way and get rid of those charges while the others clean up that side."

"Got it," Serebryakov replied, turning to follow her commander.

The catwalk rattled as they took off once again, racing down the length of the bridge towards the nearest support. Even from a distance Tanya could make out the lumps of explosives tied, taped, and generally adhered to the massive concrete pillar's side. She could also see a handful of Rus scattered across the walkway, their rifles at the ready. As they began to open fire, Tanya and her Lieutenant simply drifted to the left, away from the bridge itself. The volley of rifle fire sailed harmlessly past.

The Rus were still frantically working the bolts of their Nagants as Tanya raced by, submachine gun rattling as she raked the catwalk with automatic fire. Bullets sparked off of metal, and the Rus jerked like puppets on a string before collapsing.

Cutting her speed, Tanya turned back in, passing over the bodies and coming to a stop hovering next to the colossal support. Her defensive screen was at full strength as she scanned the array of explosives before her. Working quickly, she drew her knife and lashed out, severing the lines of detonation cord hooked to the mass of bombs. Once she was confident that she had gotten them all, she allowed herself a sigh of relief.

"Okay…" she murmured, slinging her gun over her back and adjusting her grip on her knife. "Serebryakov. Help me get these things off here. Toss them in the river."

"Yes ma'am!"

Together, the pair set to tearing the explosives off of the pillar, their knives cutting away at the tape adhering them to it. Grabbing one of the charges and yanking it free, Tanya turned and extended her arm. She cast a simple alteration on a flight spell and the charge accelerated away, to splash into the Volga far off in the distance.

Beside her, Serebryakov started at the sudden launch. She watched the charge arc away, impressed. "What was that, Colonel?"

"One-shot flight spell. I just formed it around the bomb instead of myself," Tanya explained absentmindedly, digging the blade of her knife into another clump of tape.

Serebryakov took hold of one of the charges, gave it a thoughtful look, and extended her own arm in a mimicry of her commander. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, and her Type 97 shined as she formed a spell.

With a weak _whump_, the explosive spiraled down from her grasp and clanged off the catwalk's railing, before plummeting straight into the water below.

Tanya turned to stare at her subordinate, who looked back sheepishly. "I shouldn't have to tell you not to screw around with explosives, Lieutenant," she deadpanned.

"S-Sorry, ma'am!"

Sighing, the blonde shook her head and went back to her work. "...I can teach you the method I used later, if you really want. It's been a while since I've overseen any training exercises, anyway."

Serebryakov suddenly began to look nervous. "Um, did you say...training?"

As she flung another charge up-river, Tanya noticed the other girl's unease. _Ah, she's no doubt worried about the feasibility of taking time off for training while we're stationed in a combat zone._

"I know we're likely to be extremely busy for the foreseeable future, but I can probably squeeze in a few private training sessions for you," she assured. It really wasn't that complicated a trick, but the experience of adapting a spell normally applied to oneself for use on a held object was surprisingly informative. Serebryakov would pick it up quickly, she was sure.

The Lieutenant blinked, and then stiffened, a blush on her face. "Private training sessions…" she repeated to herself quietly as she continued slicing through tape.

Tanya, meanwhile, frowned as she considered her own words. '_Extremely busy' may be an understatement. We may have been called in to suppress the enemy's demolitions efforts, but there's no way the brass will be able to resist making use of a unit like ours. Soon they'll be giving us every tough job they need done._

She let out an annoyed huff. _Permanent readiness, just like on the Rhine. Goodbye, proper sleep schedule._

The noise drew Serebryakov's attention. "Colonel? Is something wrong?"

"Just lamenting that now that we're back to being an on-call Battalion, we'll be saying goodbye to the sleeping arrangements we had as a _Kampfgruppe_," Tanya muttered. It was a bit unprofessional to complain to someone under her command, but if there was anyone she felt that she could share her annoyance with, it would be Serebryakov.

"Sleeping-? Oh!" Serebryakov's eyes widened. "I didn't realize you liked the, um, 'sleeping arrangements' that much…" she said, cheeks red.

Tanya glanced over at her adjutant, raising an eyebrow. _Why wouldn't I prefer a cabin or home with an actual bed to an army cot in a muddy tent?_

"Of course I do, Lieutenant. don't be silly," she stated plainly, casually removing the last of the explosives and disposing of it into the river.

"I see…" Serebryakov replied, a warm smile spreading across her face.

Returning her knife to its sheathe, Tanya was about to say something when her radio crackled to life.

"_Colonel, it looks like the enemy's finally caught on to us," _Weiss' voice cut in. "_They're forming up on the east bank for a counterattack. No mages, but they've got heavy tanks. Looks like a new model. Orders?"_

Tanya's hand went to her throat mic. "Switch to formula rounds and keep them suppressed with artillery spells! As soon as we've finished disarming the enemy's explosives, we'll pull out."

"_Understood."_

Tanya turned towards the next bridge support, swiftly unslinging her weapon and changing out the magazine. "We're on a time limit now, Lieutenant. so let's go!"

"Right!"

The two of them sped off.

* * *

"Absolutely not! There will be no retreat!"

"But, Comrade General Secretary, we simply don't have the men to hold the city!"

Up and down the meeting table, men continued to bicker. For his part, Loria simply resisted the urge to put his face into his hands as the army continued to protest Comrade Josef's latest decree. It was a sign of just how desperate the situation had become that they would dare display such open insubordination. Before the war, this sort of behaviour would have been enough to earn a trip to Sildberia. These days, it was a regular occurence in the Kremlin.

Though, as he continued to flip through increasingly grim reports of the situation in the south, he found it hard to blame the army in this instance. The Empire's most recent offensive had caught them completely by surprise, and the front line had broken like glass under a hammer. Aside from a few hastily deployed Tank Divisions, all that was available for any attempt to relieve Josefgrad was a mass of barely trained reserves. Much of the Federation's strength was currently tied up either defending the western approaches to Moskva, or stamping out Seperatist uprisings.

Really, while Josefgrad was an important city, it wasn't vital enough to warrant expending so many lives to save. That was why the NKVD had avoided intervening in the argument so far. Either the army would convince Comrade Josef, or the General Secretary would snap and order the NKVD to conduct another purge anyway. So he decided to simply wait and see.

Continuing to tune out the shouting around him, Loria turned to the next page of the report he was reading. A moment later, he froze, his eyes honing in on the page. He reread the words several times, feeling his heart rate begin to increase. Carefully setting the papers down, he took a deep breath, and schooled his features.

"Enough!" he roared, slamming his fist down on the table. The officer who had been speaking shut his mouth, his face paling rapidly. Heads swiveled to face him as everyone tensed, waiting to see what the NKVD's reprisal would be. "The city of Josefgrad is a shining beacon of the cause! We cannot abandon its people to the imperialists! To do so would be to let the invaders tear out the very heart of the Revolution!"

The collection of army officers sat across from him stared in fear. No doubt they were wondering who among them would be made into an example for their overstep. _Well, fortunately for them, something much more important is at stake here, _Loria thought to himself.

He smiled at them. It was a thin, sickly thing. Bringing his hands together, he addressed the frightened men with a tone that could perhaps have been called friendly had it come from any other individual. "But, I recognise your worries, Comrades. You do not wish to send our brave soldiers into battle without the tools they need. Rest assured that you will have the full support of the NKVD in this endeavour. Simply tell us what you need, and the Motherland will provide!"

The men shared suspicious glances, but as he merely continued to smile at them, a cautious optimism kindled in their eyes. "Ah, thank you, Comrade Commissioner," one of them offered.

Loria nodded back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Josef give him an appreciative look, but he disregarded it. This wasn't a mere political play. No, a much greater prize was at stake here. His eyes lowered back to the report in front of him, and his smile grew, becoming both more genuine and more twisted as he once again reread the words that had so excited him.

_Named Mage "Devil of the Rhine" encountered at Josefgrad._


	2. Chapter Two: Off The Rails

**Chapter Two: Off The Rails**

Josefgrad didn't burn like Arene, Tanya noted as she peered through her binoculars at the blasted cityscape before her. From her position on the top floor of the husk of a building, bombed into unrecognizability by the Empire's air forces, she could see block after block of shattered concrete and rubble stretching all the way to the Volga. Although, calling it a building was a bit of a stretch. It was little more than two walls with the remnants of floor hanging off of them. Only an aerial mage could even access the upper floors, which was why she'd chosen it as her perch. Hopefully any enemy snipers would be preoccupied with watching more well traveled parts of the city.

But indeed, the very building she was standing on proved that the Empire had made a mistake. Just like with Arene, they had sought to remove a thorn in their side and secure an important rail hub with minimal casualties. But unlike Arene, there was no quaint Lowlands architecture on display, with its heavy use of wood in construction. Instead of bricks being smashed apart to let the burning timber within erupt out into the streets and onto neighbouring homes, there was only concrete that cracked and crumbled in place. The Imperial Army had wanted a firestorm to sweep away all resistance before them, but what they got was a stretch of ruins and debris teeming with desperate and bitter foes.

The only consolation was that the Federation had ceased their efforts to blow up the city's railway bridge. Though, with how many Rus were flooding over it every day, maybe that wasn't such a good thing after all. Tanya certainly wasn't pleased with the retasking her unit had received as a result.

It hadn't been so bad at first. The Empire had achieved conventional air superiority in the region, meaning the 203rd was free to provide close air support to the troops below with minimal interference from the enemy. They had actually managed to advance quite far into the city that way. Of course, it didn't last. Within a week, the Federation had responded by smuggling an obscene number of anti-aircraft guns into the city, backed up by a wall of high velocity pieces stationed just across the river. Josefgrad was now effectively a no-fly zone.

Which was why her unit was stuck crawling around in the ruins like rats.

Tearing her gaze away from the bleak sight of the blasted city, Tanya focused on one of the few buildings that she could see that was mostly intact. The Josefgrad Train Station loomed ahead, dominating the city's own little "Red Square" at the end of the street, several blocks away from her position. The rectangular, three-story terminal building had weathered the bombardment the Empire had levied against it remarkably well. The only truly major damage it had sustained was the destruction of its clock tower, the red star-tipped spire that once topped it now resting in the square below, next to a bronze eyesore of a statue bearing a passable resemblance to a young Josef Dzhugashvili. She vaguely remembered seeing a photo of the central square in Stalingrad, back in her original world. There had been a statue there, too, but it was of some kids playing.

_I guess the Communists are even more tasteless in this world, _she thought as she shifted her view to peer at the barricade erected in the station's large front entrance. _Well, I suppose I already knew that. They actually built that ridiculous 'People's Palace', after all._

Spirits lifted slightly by the memory of her Battalion destroying that particular stain on Moskva's skyline, Tanya turned her attention to the street immediately before her. "Where exactly was the place again, Serebryakov?"

From her position sitting to the blonde's right, with her back against the wall, the Lieutenant hummed thoughtfully as she surveyed the map unrolled in her lap. "It should be just after the next intersection, on the right."

Tanya investigated the area her subordinate had mentioned, finding that whatever building had originally stood there was now completely collapsed. Ignoring the large pile of rubble itself, she searched around its base.

_Aha!_

A pair of cellar doors faced out towards what was once an alley, barely visible over the debris thanks to her elevated position. "Found it."

Stowing away her binoculars, Tanya crept back from the window and turned towards the ledge where the floor finally gave way. Beside her, Serebryakov swiftly rolled the map back up, placed it back into its cylindrical container at her hip, and rose to her feet. The two made their way to the edge and hopped down, flight spells activating as they gently floated to the ground floor where the rest of their Company waited.

A quick glance around revealed the remainder of the Battalion scattered around the vicinity, small clumps of men lurking in the shadows of still-standing walls or hunkered down behind wreckage. Raising a hand to her throat, she sent two clicks over her radio, to ensure no one had a chance to listen in or trace anything. A moment later, three figures peeled off from their groups, making their way over.

Weiss, Koenig, and Neumann, her veteran Company Commanders, stayed low as they crept up, each man offering her a nod. The latter had made the mistake of saluting her in the field once, some days ago, and in response she had informed him that if he continued trying so hard to get her killed she would have no choice but to consider him an enemy combatant.

No one had saluted her within city limits since.

"Here's the plan," she began unceremoniously. The sooner they could get moving and stop being sitting ducks for snipers, the better. "We're going to head through the ruins to the right of the road. When we reach the intersecting street, there will be an alley right across. The outpost entrance is in there. We'll cross over by Company, starting with mine, then Weiss, then Koenig and finally Neumann. Everyone got it?"

Another chorus of nods answered her, and the three went to round up their men. Tanya gave a quick hand signal to her own Company, and the 203rd moved out into the haphazard maze of rubble and half-destroyed buildings with her in the lead, silently cursing her earned reputation for leading from the front. In high speed aerial combat where you had to worry about leading your target, the head of the formation was actually one of the safer places to be. On the ground, not so much.

Slowly, she climbed over a small pile of debris that might have once been part of a structure, taking care not to cut herself on the jagged shards of concrete and rebar. The knowledge that she could have simply flown over it was grating, but it was best to remain cautious and stay as low as possible. She crested the top and quickly slid down the other side, darting forward into an alley between a collapsed storefront and a sagging apartment building. Glancing back, she waited for Serebryakov to make it past the pile, and waved her over.

"Keep an eye on this apartment while I move ahead," Tanya murmured to the Lieutenant, tilting her head at the building in question. "I doubt the Reds are suicidal enough to hole up in a building that looks like it's about to fall over, but better safe than sorry."

"Got it," Serebryakov replied, hefting her rifle.

Content that her back was as covered as it could be, Tanya turned back and continued down the alley. Her gun tracked left as she surveyed the destroyed shop, but she saw nothing. She continued towards the end of the alley, a flicker of relief going through her as she spotted the cellar doors across the street ahead.

As soon as she reached the street, and wasn't immediately shot at, she glanced back over her shoulder. Serebryakov stood a few paces behind her, vigilantly aiming up at the windows of the leaning apartment tower, while the rest of the Battalion slowly trailed behind in a loose line.

"Company, form up! Prepare to cross!" she whispered harshly, fixing her gaze on her objective just across the crater-marked road. Crouching into something akin to a sprinter's stance, she held her gun tightly as Serebryakov and the others fell in behind her. "And no flight spells. If you want to smear yourself across the asphalt, do it on your own time. Now, ready…"

Her heart sped up as adrenaline and mana flooded her system. She double-checked her defensive screen.

"Go!"

She sprinted forward, boots slamming into the cracked asphalt as she raced across the street, weaving between the shell and bomb craters that peppered the area. In spite of her short limbs, she surged slightly ahead of her troops, expertly constructed enhancement formulae temporarily giving her the speed and stamina of a master athlete. She made it to the other end of the street and slid to a stop, countering her momentum with a spell almost as an afterthought. Spinning around, she scanned the street with her weapon at the ready.

Nothing. Serebryakov jogged to a stop beside her, the rest of her Company following suit a moment later. There was no reaction from the ruins around her. It remained silent, save for the distant echo of gunfire far to the north, somewhere else in the city.

Tanya exhaled. _I hate this place, all this constant alertness is tearing my nerves up. But I know the moment I get careless, it's over. _

Putting aside her grievances for just a while longer, she signaled for Weiss to follow. Once again, there was no reaction as he led his men across.

Finally letting a bit of the tension bleed out of her, Tanya left the Major to oversee the crossing and strode over to the cellar entrance. A concrete square was set into the foundation of a destroyed structure, with two thick oak doors set into it that barred her passage. She clenched her left hand into a fist and knocked firmly on one of the doors, sounding out the first few notes of the Imperial anthem. A moment later she could faintly hear a series of knocks continuing from where she left off, followed by the rasp of metal sliding.

She grabbed a hold of one of the doors' handles and pulled it open, revealing a staircase leading down into a basement that glowed orange with lamplight. An infantryman in Imperial field grey stood on the steps just beyond the entrance, and he did a double-take upon seeing her, before shaking his head and moving down into the basement proper. Tanya descended the stairs after him, taking a quick survey of the area. Whatever the building above had been, it certainly had a spacious cellar, made even more so by the current inhabitants' removal of several dividing walls. Cots and supplies were strewn around in some semblance of order, with haggard-looking men scattered throughout. All in all, it reminded her of a dugout on the Rhine. It even had tunnels dug into the outer walls, presumably connecting to adjacent basements.

Stepping aside to allow the rest of her unit through as they began to filter in, she turned to regard the soldier who had let her in. "Where's Major Fischer?"

The man barely paid her any attention, fishing through his pockets to produce a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as he took a seat on a nearby ammo crate. Removing a cigarette from the pack and placing it between his lips, he glanced at her and simply grunted a one word response. "Dead."

Tanya glared at him in distaste as he made to light his smoke, before blinking as she registered what he had just said. "Then who's in charge now?"

The man paused, lighter halfway to his mouth. "Lieutenant Hoffman, I guess?"

"And where can I find him?" she asked impatiently.

He shrugged. "Check the command room. 'S through that tunnel over there."

She quickly turned away, moving towards the particular tunnel before the man could resume indulging in his habit. "Serebryakov, with me! The rest of you, fifteen minute break."

Her adjutant fell in behind her as she made a beeline for the tunnel. As she walked into it-the taller girl following her having to duck slightly-she noted that it hadn't been dug straight. It angled off to the left, before making a sudden hard turn back to the right. This conveniently made it impossible to see, or shoot, from one end to the other. Anyone attacking through it would have to advance single-file halfway down the tunnel just to be able to engage someone at the other end.

Coming out the other side, she stepped into a much smaller basement, dominated by a long table in the center. A series of maps and aerial recon photos covered its surface, currently being surveyed by a man who looked equally as worn as the rest she'd seen, the only thing distinguishing him being the braided epaulettes on his shoulders. Aside from that, the only other things of note in the room were a collapsed staircase and an unattended radio.

"Lieutenant Hoffmann?" she asked, stepping up behind him.

He turned, looking first at Serebryakov, before lowering his gaze to Tanya. His eyes were bloodshot, and he clearly hadn't shaved or bathed in quite a while. "Yes?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion," she introduced, a growing feeling of dread coming over her as she took in his appearance. "We're here responding to Major Fischer's request for reinforcements. Ah, my condolences about the Major."

Hoffmann stared at her for a moment. "...Yes, it's a shame you didn't get here an hour ago," he ground out. "I'm afraid that we won't be able to partake in the upcoming assault. After the last counterattack we barely have enough men left to hold this outpost. You and the rest of the reinforcements will have to go ahead alone."

Tanya stiffened, taking a moment to unpack that statement. She considered just where to begin, eventually settling on "...the rest of the reinforcements?"

"Yes? Surely command would have sent more than a Battalion of mages to reinforce us?" Hoffmann asked, a note of incredulity entering his voice.

"...As far as I'm aware, we were the only ones tasked with responding to this call," Tanya said, her expression growing more and more grim. "Aren't there other outposts in the area that could lend assistance?"

Hoffmann responded by sighing and shaking his head. "They're in just as bad a shape as us. Between failed advances and enemy counterattacks, the entire right flank has been worn down to nothing. No offense to your troops, Colonel, but if we don't get some real reinforcements before the Reds come knocking again…we'll be overrun."

_How could things be allowed to deteriorate to this point? _Tanya wondered. Rumours had spread that the fighting on the north side of the city had reached a fever pitch, especially around the tractor factories, but could it really be so bad as to require essentially all of their reinforcements be poured into it?

As she attempted to unpack the situation, Lieutenant Hoffmann gave her a halfhearted attempt at an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I can't in good conscience order my unit to assault that position. By our estimates, there could well be upwards of a thousand Reds in the vicinity of that station. We'd be slaughtered." He gave her a weak smile. "You're more than welcome to remain here and help us hold the line, of course. With your assistance, we might just be able to hold out until we get some more backup."

"I see," Tanya said flatly. She saw, alright. She saw accusations of 'cowardice in the face of the enemy' and 'dereliction of duty.' The higher ups had sent her here to take part in an offensive. If she let a man four ranks below her talk her into disobeying her direct orders...a court martial would be the least of her worries. "I'm afraid my orders are to ensure that train station falls under the control of the Fatherland."

Hoffmann's smile was quickly replaced with a grimace. "I'm aware that mages possess extraordinary abilities, but you have...what, twenty, maybe thirty or so soldiers?"

"Forty-eight," Tanya corrected. "The 203rd is an Augmented Battalion."

"Still," the man continued. "The station itself is heavily fortified, and every approach is covered by machine gun nests and direct-fire artillery. It's simply not possible with so few men."

Tanya narrowed her eyes. She would have commended him for his sensible decision, if she wasn't livid at the thought of having an impossible task foisted off on her unit by the people they were supposed to be supporting. "So your unit refuses to fight?" she asked lowly. Behind her, she could hear Serebryakov shift nervously.

Hoffmann bristled at her words. "Do not accuse us of cowardice. We've all lost comrades to these damned Rus, if there was a way to strike back at them we would happily do so. But we simply don't have the strength."

Closing her eyes, Tanya blew out a breath. _The worst part is that I agree with him. But soldiers like us don't get to just call off an attack because we weren't given enough to carry it out. Honestly, he's lucky his reinforcements were lead by someone reasonable, like myself. A real warhawk like that idiot Mutaguchi would've just shot anyone who refused to advance._

She reopened her eyes. Maybe there was a way to salvage this. "So, you'd be willing to join in the attack if we came up with a plan that had a good chance of success?"

Lieutenant Hoffmann gave a stiff nod of assent. "Of course. But I don't see how you could devise such a plan with what little we have."

_Okay, I can work with this, _Tanya thought. All she had to do was think of something clever sounding, and she could get them to back her own men up. Of course, she could always play the hardass and pull rank, but between her being part of an entirely different service, and the terrible state of these men, that had the potential to turn into a huge mess. "That's something for me to worry about. May I see what intelligence you've gathered on the enemy?"

"Go ahead," Hoffmann grunted, gesturing to the table behind him. "We've marked down every position we know of. Now, unless you have further need of me, I should go speak to the medics. I need to finish counting our losses."

In response, Tanya moved out of his way. He gave her a final nod of acknowledgement as he passed her, before disappearing down the tunnel. Once his footsteps had fully faded away, she slumped her shoulders and let out a long sigh.

"Looks like we've been dropped into the deep end again, huh?" she complained aloud, walking over to the-thankfully rather low-table. She placed her palms on its surface, leaning forward on her toes to peer at the map of the city's streets, and at the little red circles and crosses scrawled on it.

"If you say so, ma'am," Serebryakov remarked diplomatically, stepping up beside her to look over the map as well.

_Let's see...shit, he wasn't kidding, _Tanya cursed as she counted the Federation positions noted down. From a cursory glance, she couldn't see a single route to the station that didn't go through multiple defensive lines. One or two they could break through with artillery spells, sure, but that wouldn't be subtle. The last thing they needed was to have a wave of Federation reinforcements slam into them while they were still trying to get through the third or fourth position. And if they held back their most powerful spells, they'd be forced to storm machine gun nests and field guns conventionally. Against that kind of firepower, defensive barriers could only do so much.

Assuming a degree of competency from Hoffmann and his predecessor, she could rule out standard infantry tactics. If there was a way to break through on the ground, they would have done it already. So she had to come at the problem like an aerial mage. Which, of course, led back to the small issue that any attempt to fly in the open would be met with a storm of _flak _fire. Their flight spells could be used simply for mobility in the ruins, but trying to fly at any real speed while doing more than just following the streets would just be a good way to splat into a wall or accidentally impale themselves on a piece of rebar. And mobility wasn't of much help if they still couldn't destroy the enemy.

No matter how she looked at it, the only way to knock out the fortified positions in their way was with explosion magic. According to the map in front of her, they would have to get through at least three such positions to even have a crack at the station itself. That was three delays that would buy the Federation time to reinforce and respond to their attack. Her unit may have been capable of putting out staggering amounts of firepower in short bursts, but if hundreds of screaming Reds rolled over them while they were stuck on the ground? That would only ever end one way.

After all, they could only carry so much ammo.

"Shit…" she cursed again, this time aloud. _Does command even know how screwed things here are? The Reds sure don't, because if they did they'd be chasing us halfway to the city limits by now!_

"Is something wrong?" Serebryakov asked, glancing over.

Tanya sneered at the map as if it had somehow offended her. "This entire situation is ridiculous. It's like we're being asked to patch holes in a sinking ship, not fight a war. Are we really running so low on men here in the east that this is all the Imperial Army could spare?"

The brunette listened to her vent, before giving her a reassuring smile. "You'll think of something, Colonel. You always do."

Pausing in her scowling at a piece of paper, Tanya sighed and shook her head. "You think too highly of me, Lieutenant," she muttered. "I'm a soldier, not a..._miracle worker_," she spat. Now that she thought about it, she wouldn't be surprised if Being X had a hand in this. But then, Hanlon's razor suggested never to attribute to malice that which could be adequately explained by stupidity.

Even if expecting stupidity from her superiors was rather depressing.

It wasn't that she doubted her Battalion's capabilities. Honestly, they might be able to win a straight up fight if they maneuvered properly and had resupplies on hand. But against so many foes, and with their options limited by the enemy's overwhelming anti-air cover, it was likely that they would sustain casualties. And after all the effort she'd put in to raise them to some level of competency, simply spending their lives in order to take some train station was the height of wastefulness.

She balled her hands into fists on the tabletop. _I wonder what ever happened to the General Staff's insistence on minimising casualties? _she thought with a grimace. Caught up in her mental griping, she didn't notice her subordinate bite her lower lip and glance at the tunnel that was the only way in or out of the basement. She also failed to notice said subordinate step back from the table and move to stand behind her.

Tanya did, however, notice when Serebryakov's arms slipped around her, the older girl pulling her into a hug.

The action was so unexpected that for a moment, all the blonde could do was stand there, face slowly reddening as she felt her adjutant's..._padding _press into the back of her head. Then her mind snapped back to the present. "Serebryakov?! What are you...I thought we agreed to only do things like this in private!" she hissed quietly, her hands rising to grab at Serebryakov's.

"There's no one else around, and we'll hear anyone coming down the tunnel," the Lieutenant whispered back, tightening her grip on her small commander. "You've been getting more and more stressed ever since battle for this city began. I...I'm worried about you. Not just as your subordinate, but as your…" she trailed off, blushing profusely,

Tanya stopped, her hands still gripping the other girl's. _Of course I'm stressed! I know just how badly this could go! _was what she wanted to say. Besides, now really wasn't the time. They were in the middle of an operation, after all. The best thing to do would almost certainly be to extricate herself from Viktor-ahem, Serebryakov's grasp and continue formulating a strategy.

So why wasn't she doing that? Tanya wasn't sure.

"Just relax for a little bit, okay? I'm sure you'll be able to think better after a quick rest," Serebryakov pleaded. "I'll make sure to listen out for anyone coming."

Tanya fidgeted, before she let her hands fall back to the table. She tried to come up with a response, a way to explain to her adjutant why this really wasn't the right time for this. She was sure there were several very good reasons. It was just...rather hard to think at the moment.

_...How can I feel them so well through her flight jacket?!_ she thought, dumbly.

Ignorant of her superior's current thoughts, Serebryakov took the lack of a response as acceptance. She rested her chin on top of the younger girl's head, smiling slightly as she held her close.

Tanya's thoughts continued to run in circles for a few moments, before she finally gave up and slumped back into her adjutant's embrace. _Well, we are supposed to be...in a relationship. I should have expected her to do something like this eventually. _She sighed, closing her eyes. _A few minutes is fine, I guess. Still…_

"Viktoriya."

The brunette started slightly at the sudden sound of Tanya's voice. "Mm?"

"I understand that you are only thinking of my wellbeing, so I'll let it slide this time, but if you make a habit of doing things like this during missions, I'll have no choice but to discipline you," Tanya stated matter-of-factly, eyes still shut.

"Eh?" Viktoriya stiffened. "D-Discipline me?" she repeated in a slightly strangled voice.

Tanya nodded. "I am still your superior officer, after all. I can only bend the rules so much, even for the person I'm…" she stopped, searching for the best way to phrase it. "...romantically involved with."

"Oh…" Viktoriya mumbled.

"If it comes to that though, I promise I'll be gentle," Tanya assured. _A verbal rebuke, maybe some light punishment duty if I need to make a show of things. Everyone in the Battalion likes her, so they shouldn't complain if I go easy on her._

"_Oh_," Viktoriya repeated.

_...she doesn't seem very relieved, _Tanya noted with a small frown. _Am I really that scary of a boss? _she wondered. After a bit of pondering, she decided that it was probably due to the fact that her age prevented her from ever sharing a drink and unwinding with her men. In her old life, some of the harshest bosses she'd ever worked for had been quite amicable once their work was over and they had a beer in hand.

The two of them fell into a lengthy silence, during which Viktoriya slowly relaxed back into their embrace. Tanya, for her part, tried to find something to think about that wasn't related to the war.

Inevitably, her thoughts turned towards the girl currently snuggled up against her. It still baffled her, the way their little secret relationship had begun. It had been quite alarming at the time, really. But things had admittedly worked out fairly well. Viktoriya didn't seem to expect much of her, happy to simply hold on to her hand or lean against her whenever they had a moment of privacy. And considering how they'd passed the winter sharing their warmth in a single bed, Tanya felt confident in saying that she was properly managing the relationship and keeping it going smoothly. Sure, they hadn't even so much as kissed, but considering her own age, it was probably to be expected that Viktoriya would want to take things slow. That was fine by her.

That said, a small part of Tanya's tired, stressed-out mind wondered what kissing her subordinate would be like. Not that she would admit it, even to herself.

A small squeak derailed the blonde's thoughts, and her eyes snapped open as Viktoriya's grip on her suddenly intensified. She let out a weak noise as the air was forced from her lungs. As she sputtered, her subordinate let out a yelp at something.

"Vik...tori...ya…" she wheezed, causing the girl to let go in alarm.

"S-Sorry!" Viktoriya apologised, taking a few steps back. "I was startled by, um…"

Taking a few deep breaths, Tanya looked over in the direction of the squeaking sound. A black-furred rat stared back, its head poking out from behind a stack of boxes. They stared at each other for several seconds, before it gave another squeak and dashed off down the tunnel out of the room. She blinked, and turned to Viktoriya, who gave her an embarrassed smile.

Tanya sighed, shaking her head. _A real War of the Rats we've got here._

Then her eyes went wide. "Vik-" she coughed, switching back into a professional mindset. "-Serebryakov! Look for a map of the city's sewer system!"

Her adjutant straightened. "Yes ma'am!"

Together, the two of them rushed around the small basement, checking map after map. Finally, Serebryakov let out a triumphant noise, and spread one of the larger ones out across the table.

_I can't believe it took me so long to think of it, _Tanya thought as she swiftly strode over to inspect it. _The Rattenkrieg. The famous struggle for Stalingrad's sewers. Come to think of it, I haven't heard anything about either us or the Reds operating in the sewers…_

The reason for that became quickly apparent as she surveyed the access points dotted around the city. Or more accurately, the lack of them. Apparently the Federation, or at least whoever was in charge of Josefgrad's infrastructure, didn't believe in regularly spaced sewer entrances. There were entire districts of the city with single digit numbers of access points. A quick look at the area they were in revealed that while there was an entrance fairly close by, there were no exits anywhere near the train station itself.

_Come on you useless Commies, there has to be something I can use here, _she thought with a scowl, her eyes following the network of sewage tunnels under the city. A single tunnel in particular caught her attention, and the scowl on her face turned into a wild grin. "This is it!"

It went right under the north wing of the station.

Serebryakov looked from the map to her with a curious expression, prompting Tanya to explain. "The sewer runs straight under the building. We'll slip past all their defenses, and make our own way in!" she exclaimed.

"Eh? Won't there be reinforced concrete foundation in the way?" Serebryakov asked, eyes wide. "Detonating an explosion spell powerful enough to break through that in such a confined space is…"

Tanya's grin slipped as she thought of what she would have to do to carry out her plan, but she remained undaunted. If it was the only way to accomplish her objective and keep herself and her men alive, then so be it. "Not an explosion spell. We'll bore through with a thermic lance."

Serebryakov still looked hesitant. "To burn through solid concrete…"

"We'll have to use the Type 95," Tanya grudgingly admitted. "But it's doable."

Her Lieutenant slowly nodded. She straightened up, a small smile forming on her face. "If you say we can do it, Colonel, then I believe you."

* * *

First Lieutenant Franz Hoffmann risked a brief peek around the corner of the alley, the frayed straps of his _Stahlhelm _causing it to shift uncomfortably from the motion. Down the street, the surviving half of a five-story apartment building loomed over a collection of sandbags and makeshift obstacles. He could just make out flashes of movement in the windows and behind the barricade in the few seconds before he ducked back.

Glancing behind him, he met the hard grey eyes of his XO, Sergeant Kowalski. The gruff Ostlander held his rifle tight, a smoldering cigarette hanging from his lips as he stood waiting.

Hoffmann cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you were saving your last one."

Kowalski huffed, blowing a wisp of thin smoke across the alleyway. "The way I figure, we'll be ending the day either victorious or dead. If we win, I can just loot some more. If I'm dead, well, then I ain't gotta worry about it, do I?" he grumbled, his voice thick with the accent of the Empire's eastern provinces.

Hoffmann chuckled quietly. "I suppose not," he admitted. The humour was more than a little black, but at this point, he'd take whatever he could get to ease the tension. The rest of the men huddled around the alley seemed to agree, judging by their weary grins. Or maybe they were just imagining all the smokes and alcohol ripe for the taking should they win.

"So how much longer are we going to be sitting around waiting?" Kowalski asked impatiently.

Hoffmann shrugged. "Until we get the signal."

"And that would be?" the Sergeant pressed, annoyed.

"She said we'll 'know it when we see it'," Hoffmann quoted. Normally he would have taken a comment like that as a joke, but something about the way Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff had said it made it sound entirely too serious.

Kowalski didn't seem to agree. "Goddamn mages," he grumbled. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Ignoring the Ostlander as he continued to mutter under his breath, Hoffman turned back to the alley entrance and settled down to wait. He gave his own weapon another look over, more to kill time than out of any real worry over its condition, and once again reflected on just how strange his life had gotten. First the Major had gotten himself killed in a heroic stand that would surely be worthy of a medal, assuming that anyone survived long enough to report on it. And then, just as he had been coming to terms with being in charge of what was left of the unit, a little girl and a teenager had walked in and announced that they were his reinforcements.

* * *

"_The people living in darkness have seen a great light. On those living in this land of the shadow of death, a light has dawned."_

* * *

A little girl that carried herself like an Academy instructor, with a gaze that accused him of cowardice simply for being unwilling to throw his men into a suicidal assault. Even when he had offered her an alternative, to fortify and defend their battered line against the inevitable Federation counterattack, she had thrown it back at him and stuck to the absolute letter of her orders. And then as he feebly attempted to defend his comrades' honour, she had cornered him into conditionally pledging their support.

Of course, the condition was that the attack she had planned be more than just an elaborate way for his men to self-terminate. Something that seemed impossible given the odds. But then she had presented him with a plan in which her unit accepted all the risk, and his only had to act as a distraction. While those mages were infiltrating behind enemy lines, all they had to do was take potshots at the Rus' outer lines to keep their attention split. To have refused even such an easy role _would _have been cowardice.

Truly, Colonel von Degurechaff was a fearsome adversary. He could only hope that she was fearsome enough to handle the nest of Reds she was digging into.

* * *

"_In the same way, let our light shine before others, that they may see our good deeds and glorify our Father in Heaven. Amen!"_

* * *

Lieutenant Hoffmann's thoughts were cut off as the ground shook below his feet. Almost immediately, he could hear distant shouts from the Rus down the street. They sounded panicked. No, they sounded utterly terrified. He swiftly crept back up to the corner and took a look, freezing in shock at what he saw.

"_Gott im Himmel…_" he breathed.

In the distance, a pillar of golden light rose into the sky, piercing straight through the clouds. Even from this distance, his eyes watered just looking at it. _Is this...her doing? _he thought numbly.

Footsteps quickly followed behind him. "What the hell are you gawping at?" Kowalski growled, reaching for his superior's shoulder. The moment he caught sight of the beam, he stopped dead, cigarette falling from his now open mouth.

As they stared, it flickered and finally vanished, leaving a neat hole in the cloud layer. The blue sky could be seen just beyond.

* * *

Lowering her gun, Tanya peered up at the tunnel she had just carved, her eyes glowing gold in the dim lighting of the sewer. Thanks to her barrier and the oxygen being magically fed into her system, the smoke and steam pouring out of the hole above was no bother to her. Even the molten rock and metal that dripped down was of no consequence, and she watched dispassionately as a hissing glob of liquified concrete slid down her defensive screen.

As it finally hit the ground, she gestured to where her men waited at a safe distance. "On me, let's go."

"Yes ma'am!" they chorused, rushing over to her without hesitation.

She-_was elated at the adulation in their expressions as the light of the Lord opened a path for them. _As they fell in around her, she activated her flight spell, the-_blessed artifact that was the_-Elinium Arms Type 95 Computation Orb handling the strain of yet another formula with not even the slightest issue. Even the grossly overpowered thermic lance that she had just fired hadn't seriously taxed its quad processor cores. Silently, she ascended towards the distant light above, the sky visible beyond the tunnel's end. As she rose, she spared a brief glance at the source of the steam pouring out of the tunnel, a water main that her attack had bisected, the ends still glowing red and dripping molten metal. She simply twisted in the air to avoid the worst of the steam and continued on, the rest of her-_noble crusaders_-in tow.

No resistance met her as she emerged from the tunnel. Light-_of the Lord_-shined down on her through the gaping hole her lance had torn through the two upper floors and the roof, but it wasn't the primary source of illumination in the room she'd broken into. Roaring flames surrounded her on all sides, casting her and her surroundings in a hellish glow. It seemed that the room had once been an office, likely for management of the station and the trains it serviced. The abandoned desks and paperwork now served as fuel for the fire she had started.

Movement caught her attention, and she spotted a lone figure crawling towards the exit, his uniform wreathed in flame. Her submachine gun came up, and a short pull of the trigger put him out of his misery.

More forms rose out of the tunnel around her, their silhouettes and glowing eyes visible through the smoke clogging the air. Putting a hand to her throat, she gave them their orders. "Koenig, Neumann, sweep the first and second floors. Weiss, with me. We'll clear the ground floor and go from there."

Another chorus of affirmatives was the response she got. Satisfied, she accelerated forward and cut her spell, hitting the ground running. The doors ahead of her opened, and a confused and alarmed group of Rus peered into the room, guns drawn but not yet at the ready. Their eyes widened as they saw her emerge from the smoke, and they began to bring their rifles to bear. In response, the Type 95 eagerly leapt to respond to her mental commands, layering enhancement formulae on her small body by the dozen. Suddenly the Rus in front of her seemed to be moving through molasses as the world slowed down to a crawl. Her gun chattered, and she raced through the crowd, sprinting out into the hall. As she moved to kick open the nearest door, the bodies of the soldiers behind her finally hit the floor.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. The acrid smell of gunsmoke permeated the air as the mages of the 203rd went room by room, gunning down the completely unprepared Rus. Complete and total surprise had been achieved, and Tanya wielded it like a dagger, driving it into the Federation all the way to the hilt.

The first real sign of attempted resistance was waiting for them in the station's central lobby. A hefty, circular marble desk dominated the center of the spacious hall, with Rus huddled behind it. The moment she entered, they unleashed a hail of rifle and machinegun fire. Even with her boosted reactions, a few shots still skipped off her barrier as she rolled to the side. Completing her roll, she came up firing, half a dozen formula rounds punching into the marble counter. The Rus adjusted their aim, but Tanya took advantage of the lobby's high, vaulted ceiling and dodged _up. _The fusillade passed harmlessly underneath her as she took flight.

Then the spells embedded in the bullets she'd just fired activated, and half of the massive stone desk detonated. Stone shrapnel ripped through the Federation soldiers as their cover was suddenly turned into a massive fragmentation bomb.

From her new position floating high above the lobby, she was able to watch as the rest of her and Weiss' companies flooded in after her, swiftly dispatching the remaining-_nonbelievers_-and sending the survivors fleeing into the opposite wing of the building. She was just about to give chase when her radio activated.

"_Colonel! The second floor is clear, but we've got Reds pouring into the square from the east and west! Looks like they've finally figured out what's going on!" _Neumann's voice shouted at her.

It seemed like the Federation was panicking over the sudden and overwhelming attack on their main stronghold in the area. They had chosen to respond with their favorite tactics, overwhelming numbers and human wave assaults. Tanya's mind, racing with the-_sheer euphoria of God's might flowing through her_-recalled a famous quote.

_They've got us surrounded. The poor bastards._

With a savage grin, she activated her mic. "Confirm, the Reds are advancing out in the open?"

The response was near immediate. "_Confirmed!"_

"Take care of the eastern group, then," she said-_wanting to praise the Lord for her good fortune. _"Artillery spell salvo, _maximum yield._"

"_Understood!"_

Grin still on her face, Tanya descended back down to her waiting men. The second she touched down, she singled her burly Vice Commander out of the group. "Weiss! Keep going and clear the south wing! I have some unwanted guests to see off."

The man nodded and set off, his troops in tow. _Resisting the urge to whistle a hymn-_she led her own company across the lobby and towards the barricade filling the main entrance to the station. She slid into place behind the wall of sandbags, peeking over. Sure enough, what could easily have been hundreds of Federation soldiers were running straight across the open square, screaming their battle cries and waving the banners-_of their Godless ideology. _Counting herself and Lieutenant Serebryakov, she had twelve to stand against them.

More than enough, really.

She raised her weapon, aiming past the ugly bronze statue of 'Comrade Josef' and at the approaching horde. "Company, take aim! Prepare for artillery spell bombardment, maximum yield!"

"Yes ma'am!"

The Type 95 glowed brightly enough to be seen through her flight suit.

"_Fire!_"

Half of Josefgrad's so-called Red Square vanished in a thermobaric fireball. Immediately, Tanya and her men hit the ground, getting as low as possible. A moment later, there was a groan of tearing metal, and a great bronze head flew over them, carried by a wave of force that ripped apart the barricade they were huddled behind. Their barriers flared, desperately trying to protect them as they slid backwards across the floor. A great _crack _resounded from the other end of the lobby as the statue's head finally crashed down, and a few moments later the blast wave subsided.

Breathing heavily, Tanya began to lever herself up to her feet, only for the Type 95 to abruptly shut off. Suddenly bereft of her physical enhancement formulae, she collapsed back to her knees with a pained gasp.

"Colonel!"

A hand gently seized her by the shoulder, and she looked up into the concerned face of her adjutant. "Viktoriya…?" she muttered, disoriented.

"Colonel, are you okay?" Viktoriya asked, any embarrassment she may have felt at being addressed so informally in front of the others swept away by concern for her commander.

Tanya blinked. "I'm...fine, Lieutenant," she said, glancing past the other girl and out the doorway, taking in the sight of the rising smoke cloud.

Inside, however, she was definitely not fine. Because the last thing she could remember was firing that thermic lance off in the sewer.


	3. Chapter Three: The Calm

**Chapter Three: The Calm**

Moonlight filtered in through the office window, the room's sole occupant hard at work despite the late hour. Even while the rest of Berun slept, the man remained at his post, flipping through report after report.

Setting the papers down, Lieutenant General Hans von Zettour let out a sigh. Each one told the same story. As the Imperial Army continued its advance east, so too did its casualties continue to increase. The Empire had already been at war for four years. Four years of dead piled high, weighing down on his mind. They were, all of them, martyrs who had given their lives to preserve their Fatherland in a world that seemed irrationally determined to destroy it. In a sane world, the fall of the Entente Alliance and the destruction of the Francois army should have brought about the end of the war. Indeed, he remembered celebrating it as such. It was a shame, then, that the world had chosen that moment to go mad.

_A World War, _he thought, remembering the words of a certain young girl. Tanya von Degurechaff, the Ace known as White Silver, was an enigma to him. The list of her accomplishments was truly impressive, with her and her unit being instrumental to many of the Empire's greatest victories. But more than her battle record, it was her mind that astounded him. Despite her age, she grasped the concepts of modern war almost as if by instinct. She had dispassionately put forward the insane idea of the entire world being slowly dragged into the war, piece by piece. It had been enough to make him wonder, just for a moment, if Lergen had been right about something being wrong with her.

And then she had been proven right. The Commonwealth had entered the war at what should have been the final hour, pitting the Empire against the world's largest navy. Not long after, the Federation had launched an unprovoked invasion of their eastern territories, bringing their seemingly endless manpower to bear. For every enemy they felled, two more sprung up to take their place. It was like a bad joke, and yet, Degurechaff had somehow known it would turn out this way. She had tried to warn them all.

Not for the first time, he considered calling her back from the front. Who knew what other insights she held in that brain of hers? What predictions did she yet have to offer on the course of the war? It was tempting. But no, she was simply too valuable as a frontline asset. And more, she was quite clearly the type of soldier who lived for battle. That was why his old friend Rudersdorf was so fond of her, almost like a proud parent. Something in her clearly reminded the mustachioed man of himself in his youth. While Zettour knew she would accept a reposting to the rear without complaint-she had done so in order to design the Empire's new _Kampfgruppe _doctrine, after all-permanently being separated from the men she had trained herself would only inspire resentment in her.

Still, he sometimes wondered just how differently the war would have gone had she been the one sitting behind this desk, instead of him.

A knock on his door, loud and booming, drew him from his thoughts and brought a smile to his face. "Come in, come in, no need to bust my poor door off its hinges!"

In response to his call the door swung open to admit none other than Lieutenant General Kurt von Rudersdorf, the man's greying hair seeming almost silver as the moonlight struck it. Casually shutting the door behind him, Rudersdorf took a glance around the darkened office, unlit save for the window and the small lamp glowing atop Zettour's desk. "Reading by lamplight again? You'll ruin what's left of your eyesight at this rate."

"A remark about my health would perhaps be a more stinging rebuke coming from anyone other than you," Zettour smirked, giving a meaningful look towards the cigars visible in the man's uniform pocket.

Rudersdorf harrumphed. "So, just what is so important that you're still here at…" he glanced down at his watch. "Half past midnight?"

"I could ask you the same," Zettour remarked, before he gestured at a cabinet at the far end of the room. "Fetch me a drink, would you?"

Wordlessly, Rudersdorf strode over and retrieved a bottle of brandy. He balanced a pair of wine glasses in one large hand, and carefully made his way over to the desk to set them down. Pouring a drink for both Zettour and himself, he pulled over a spare chair and sat.

Zettour took a sip, savouring the taste for a moment, before he sat the glass back down and picked out one of papers covering his desk. "The first wave of volunteers from our new allies have finished mustering," he said, sliding it over.

Rudersdorf picked it up and looked it over. "Isn't that a good thing? Ukrayiny alone contains a sizable population, to say nothing of Byelorussy and Latvonia. Their help should go a long way towards resolving the manpower crisis in the east."

"In theory. In practice, we now have a large number of troops with a bare minimum of training and armed mainly with captured Federation small arms, who we must now transport to the front and make use of," Zettour explained with a frown. "They're certainly willing to fight to cast off the yoke of Communism and Moskvite dominion, and they've even been reasonable enough to submit themselves to our command structure for the time being, but actually finding a use for them is easier said than done. They lack artillery, armour, aircraft, mages…" he listed, before trailing off with a sigh.

"Can't we just use them to reinforce our lines?" Rudersdorf asked, tossing the paper back on the desk. "The most common complaint we get from the east is that we don't have the manpower to hold the territory we've taken. Even if we can take the Federation in a head on fight, they can afford to just take the casualties and swarm around our lines. Degurechaff's _Kampfgruppen _strategy has at least given us a tool mobile enough to respond to these incursions, but...feh," he grunted, reaching again for his glass.

"It's a stalemate situation. They break through, we counter attack with our reserves, repeat," Zettour finished his old friend's explanation for him. Leaning back in his chair, he frowned and continued "Textbook mobile defense. An endless delaying action until one side runs out of bodies. It's exactly the situation we strove to end on the Rhine. And that was a far shorter frontline to cover. No, using them to shore up the front would just be delaying our inevitable collapse. We need another paradigm shift."

The two considered the problem, savoring their drinks in the dimly lit office. Without warning, the room was briefly bathed in a harsh white light from the window, followed by a deafening peal of thunder that rattled the glass panes. It was so sudden that even Rudersdorf, the hardened old soldier that he was, jolted slightly in surprise as he turned to look at the window. The quick movement caused his glass to tilt, and he cursed under his breath and redirected his attention downwards as a small amount of brandy spilled onto the floor.

"Strange, there wasn't a cloud in the sky last I looked," Zettour remarked, glancing at the window. He could already see raindrops beginning to impact the glass, with increasing frequency.

His drinking partner didn't respond, prompting Zettour to look back at the other man. Rudersdorf was leaned over, reaching down for something. He straightened back up, an envelope in his hand, slightly stained with brandy. He tossed it onto the desk. "It looks like that fell onto the floor."

Zettour hummed thoughtfully, picking the envelope up and turning it over in his hands. There was something written on it, but it had been smudged to near illegibility by the drink that had soaked into it. All he was able to make out was _O VULT._

With a mental shrug, he tore the envelope open and unfolded the report inside, eyes skimming the words on the paper. His interest was piqued both by the positive nature of the report, and by the familiar name repeated throughout. It seemed that the Eastern Army Group's request for the 203rd to be detached and assigned to their primary offensive had finally borne fruit. The city of Josefgrad was the _Schwerpunkt _of the operation, being a vital crossing point of the formidable Volga river, but unexpectedly heavy Federation resistance had caused the battle there to become yet another stalemate at the front. But if this report was to be believed, Degurechaff had lead an assault on a major Rus command center, suddenly putting the enemy's flank at risk. As a result, the city's defenders had fallen into a panic, and the Imperial Army was able to push them back nearly to the shores of the Volga. The report ended with a request from General von Paul for whatever reinforcements could be spared, for a final drive to conquer the city.

"How fortunate," Zettour murmured. "It seems the question of how to best use our new allies has been answered."

"Oh?" Rudersdorf asked, raising an eyebrow. In response, Zettour passed him the report, and he took a moment to look it over. After skimming it, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Josefgrad? I've seen the casualty rates coming out of that place. They won't last a week."

Zettour nodded, accepting the observation as fact. Then he leaned forward, smirking as he pointed out an observation of his own. "_They _wouldn't, but we do have a considerable amount of veterans in the region who are currently tied down defending our gains. If we shift that duty to the volunteers, it should free up enough men for a final drive across the Volga."

Understanding bloomed in Rudersdorf's eyes, and he grinned back. "And once we're over that damned river the Rus are out of places to run." He sat the report down and drained the rest of his glass. "Knowing you, I bet you have something specific in mind, don't you?"

Zettour's smirk widened. "I think it's about time a certain Colonel got her command back," he remarked, a plan already coming together in his mind. And in true Imperial military tradition, he would put his plan into action.

* * *

Far from Berun, on the very edge of the Empire's Eastern Front, another Imperial soldier was enacting a cunning plan of her own. One that to her was just as important as any being created by the General Staff, if not moreso.

"I call!" Viktoriya exclaimed, pushing a pile of Marks into the center of the table. A series of murmurs went up from the other players as the already sizable pot grew even larger. A small pile of treasure sat in front of them, ranging from bills bearing the seal of the Imperial treasury to gold and silver rings and watches. There was only one thing in the pot, however, that was actually of interest to her: a bag of exotic coffee beans that a lucky infantryman had looted from the office of an NKVD commissar.

The once regular deliveries to the 203rd, courtesy of one Colonel Uger from the supply department, had dried up as of late. The fighting within the city had reached such an intensity that it was simply impossible to justify including luxuries in the supply shipments. Every truck, train, and cart sent to the troops fighting in Josefgrad was already overburdened with ammunition, food, and medicine, a visible sign of the Empire's buildup in the region. But whatever effects that the current situation might have had on the state of the war, the only one important to Viktoriya was that her commander had been without her favorite brew for many weeks now.

That wasn't too awful by itself, of course. Tanya had dealt with the ersatz stuff for extended periods before without complaint, and Viktoriya was adept in making it as drinkable as possible. But something was clearly bothering the Colonel, and had been ever since the 203rd's capture of the train station they were currently stationed in. It might not have been obvious to the others, especially as they'd been kept busy sweeping through the surrounding ruins under Weiss' direction. But as Colonel Degurechaff's adjutant and..._partner, _she was uniquely positioned to see just how strange the blonde was acting. Not only had she been quieter and less prone to her usual fiery speeches, Viktoriya had on more than one occasion caught her moping in the office that had been converted into quarters for the two of them, glaring at her Type 95 Computation Orb and generally looking as if it had somehow personally offended her.

It was actually kind of adorable, but Viktoriya would die before telling Tanya that. Well, more likely she would die _after _telling her that.

But even more worrying, when the order had come in for Tanya to assume control of the Imperial forces in the sector and hold the station until further notice, she hadn't even protested being shunted back into a management role! And so soon after she'd been brought in to lead her Battalion from the front again, something that Viktoriya had heard she'd practically requested during the operation's briefing as well. For her to accept without even a hint of annoyance was unusual.

With all of that in mind, it was Viktoriya's concern for her commander's wellbeing that had lead her to join this game. She was afraid that if she tried to simply question Tanya outright that her concerns would be brushed aside. Years of experience had taught her that Tanya von Degurechaff could be a...difficult person at times. Even after several months of what she supposed could be called _courting, _there was still so much that she had yet to learn about her enigmatic commander. Did she have a favorite colour, or season? Were there any kinds of music that she liked? There were so many small details that she didn't know about Tanya, but felt that she should. But she _did _know how Tanya liked her coffee, and just like her officer training courses had taught her, she was prepared to seize that advantage. If she could just put her commander into a good mood and get her to open up, she might be able to figure out what was bothering her.

Of course, that all hinged on her actually winning this hand. A glance down at her cards showed that all she currently had was a pair of Counts, and with five other players at the table, each one eager to claim such a large pot, there was a strong chance that someone had her beat.

She resisted the urge to bite her lip as she considered her other three cards. An Emperor, a King, and a Queen, all of Hearts. Combined with the Heart on one of her Counts, she was only a card away from a flush, imperial or otherwise. But going for that would mean abandoning her pair. It was a risk, certainly. But then, sometimes the course of action that at first glance seemed riskier was actually the safest, once everything was factored in. Tanya had taught her that, calling it by name as some kind of bias or philosophical razor that she couldn't quite remember.

Determination filled her at that thought, and she made a quick prayer as she threw away her spare Counts. _Please, God. I just want to make the person I care about happy._

A replacement card was dealt her way, and it skidded to a stop facedown on the rough, bullet-marked wooden table in front of her. She reached for it, hesitating for only a moment, and added it to her hand. The moment she caught sight of the red hearts emblazoned on it, her own heart skipped a beat. Then she saw the two digit number tucked beside the suite, and shock and elation both flooded through her. It was thanks to that shock, and of course the instinctive discipline pounded into her by the Imperial military and then refined by Colonel von Degurechaff's merciless training, that she managed to avoid breaking her composure.

_Thank you! _she cheered mentally. Whether she had God or Lady Luck to thank for the draw, she was immensely grateful either way.

Her poker face intact, she looked up at her opponents, watching their various reactions as they exchanged their own cards. One of them, a young and bookish-looking man wearing a red cross armband over his sleeve, let out a groan and folded outright. The next round of betting went by, and more looted treasures and _Reichsbanknotes _were added to the pot, along with the last of Viktoriya's gambling money.

Well, technically it was the 203rd's discretionary fund, but as the Colonel's adjutant, she was authorised to use it as she saw fit.

Finally it came time for them to reveal their cards. Three hands were tossed onto the table immediately, and the owner of the highest set leaned forward in excitement. His hopes were dashed, however, when the last player other than Viktoriya set down his cards. The infantryman grinned, chewing on a smouldering cigar, and called out the result. "Straight flush. Clubs, seven to two."

The others groaned, save for the young medic who muttered something under his breath.

"Sorry, _Fräulein,_ but it looks like it's my win," the soldier chuckled. "But if you'd like, I'd be willing to share a cup of that coffee with you. I saw you looking at it."

"Ah, that's very kind of you, but I'm afraid that won't be necessary." Viktoriya gave him an apologetic smile and showed her hand. "Imperial flush."

The table went silent as the cigar-smoking man's grin was replaced with a look of shock. The silence dragged on for several seconds, before it was suddenly broken by the medic bursting into laughter. The other three men quickly joined in.

"Hahaha, looks like you finally found someone who has you beat when it comes to swindling, Karl!"

The infantryman just grumbled, chomping angrily on his cigar. Viktoriya gave him another apologetic look, before setting herself to the task of scooping up her prizes. The paper money was easy enough to tuck away, but the watches and jewelry were a bit more problematic, to say nothing of the all-important coffee beans. She paused to consider the problem.

"Hey, catch!"

She looked up at the exclamation in time to see the medic chuck a carry bag across the table at her, a red cross identical to the one on his armband sewn onto its front. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly reached out to snag it by the carrying strap. To her surprise, it wasn't very heavy at all, and a quick peek inside showed that it was completely empty. She turned back to the bag's owner, shaking her head. "I can't just take your bag! Won't you need it?"

The young man shrugged. "Consider it thanks for wiping the perpetual smugness off my friend here's face." He dodged an annoyed swipe from the man to his left, and continued speaking. "Besides, my platoon's short on supplies, so it's not like I have anything to put in it. Just get it back to me when you're done with it. The name's Seidel."

"Well, if you're sure…" Viktoriya replied, still feeling somewhat bad about imposing on him. An idea struck her, and she smiled. "Oh, I know, I'll ask Colonel Degurechaff if there's anything that can be spared for you guys! Our Battalion usually has more than it needs, anyway."

That earned her a set of four confused looks, and a thoughtful one from 'Karl.' A moment later, his face twisted into a look of shock as he recognized the name. "Wait, Degurechaff-you know the White Silver?!"

"Of course," Viktoriya nodded as she began packing her winnings into the borrowed bag. "I'm her adjutant, after all."

"White Silver?" Seidel asked. "Is that one of those Mage Ace na-mmph!"

"Yes it is, now shut up!" Karl hissed, clamping a hand over the medic's mouth. Looking over at Viktoriya, he laughed nervously and took his cigar from his mouth with his other hand. "Hey, that's real nice of you to offer, but we'll be fine. N-No need to bother the White Silver with our problems. I'm sure she's got a lot more to be worrying about than a few dumb grunts like us!"

Seidel let out a muffled noise of annoyance at that.

"Are you sure?" Viktoriya frowned. The man's wording, that Tanya had "more to be worrying about", reminded her of the reason behind her current actions and served to dampen her mood.

Karl nodded rapidly. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry about us! We're a tough lot! Anyway, don't let us keep you, go ahead and collect your winnings. And, uh, good game!"

She blinked. "Um, thank you?"

"No problem!" he said with another nervous laugh. Seidel struggled beside him in a futile attempt to get free.

"Okay then…" Viktoriya said, awkwardly filling the bag. There was something very strange about the way the man was acting, but the reminder of Tanya's current state was still at the forefront of her mind. Quickly, she finished packing her haul into the bag, slung it over her shoulder, and stood to leave.

* * *

As soon as Viktoriya was out of earshot, Karl Busch leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh of relief, letting go of the still squirming medic.

"The hell was that about, Sarge?" Seidel asked in irritated bewilderment.

"Look, kid," Karl said, taking a drag from his cigar to calm his nerves. "There are some higher ups you just don't want to be around if you can help it. That name, White Silver? No one calls her that anymore, not on the front." He grimaced. "Not since Arene."

Seidel still looked confused, but one of the other men at the table cursed. "The Massacre? Shit, I forgot you were a part of that mess."

"Just the cleanup," Karl muttered. "The city was gone by the time we marched in. Just ashes and rubble...and bodies. That mage, Degurechaff, she was there. She'd been there from the beginning, just floating above it all. I still remember...she was smiling."

A heavy silence hung over the five men. Finally, Seidel spoke up. "...What do they call her now, then?"

Karl blew out a ring of smoke and watched it drift through the air, unpleasant memories rising up. "Rusted Silver. 'Cause of all the blood."

* * *

Despite the awful situation she continued to find herself in, Tanya von Degurechaff was at least grateful for one thing: she'd managed to go several weeks without having to shoot at-or be shot at by-anyone! Back in something vaguely resembling a rear echelon position, she could delegate all the nasty stuff and bury herself in wonderful, boring, safe paperwork. If it wasn't for the constant rumble of artillery, squalid and bombed-out surroundings, and occasional enemy counterattack on her command post, she could almost pretend that she was working a nice and respectable HR job instead of participating in what might have been the single most wasteful endeavour in the history of this world.

_Ha. If only._

Still, it was very much preferable to being out in the thick of the fighting. Especially after the...incident during her last engagement. Setting her pen and half-finished report down on the flimsy desk that had been moved into her shabby quarters, she looked over at the small jewel resting on the wood surface.

The Elinium Arms Type 95 Computation Orb. Doctor Schugel's magnum opus, and Being X's cursed artifact. It was, in the eyes of the Imperial military, an extremely potent strategic asset. Its only true drawbacks in the eyes of her superiors was its uniqueness, and the fact that it would only function for her. Of course, she knew better.

Just activating the damn thing forced her to praise that jumped-up celestial bureaucrat. And now it apparently screwed with her mind while she was using it, rearranging her thoughts and even erasing a chunk of her memory. She'd only managed to piece together the events of her assault on the station by asking Weiss to give a full after-action report, ostensibly to keep him sharp for when it was time for him to retake field command of the Battalion. It didn't sound like she'd done anything _too _unusual while under the Orb's influence, but the memory loss was extremely concerning.

Honestly, if it wouldn't have been certain to earn her a court martial, she would have just tossed it in the Volga by now. Let some stinking carp experience the "glory" of Being X.

The sound of the door to the room unlocking briefly registered to her, but she maintained her grumpy gaze at the Type 95. The only other person with a key was Visha, and if she needed something, she would ask.

Then the door opened, and the scent of fresh coffee wafted by her nose.

Tanya furrowed her brow at the familiar smell, and she turned her head towards the source. Sure enough, her Lieutenant was there with a steaming mug in her hand. Viktoriya shut the door behind her and turned to regard Tanya with a slightly shy smile. "Would you like some coffee, Colonel? I made it just the way you like it."

"Did Uger slip a shipment through somehow?" Tanya asked, turning on her stool to face her subordinate.

Viktoriya shook her head as she approached Tanya's desk. She sat the mug down, and looked a bit sheepish. "I won a whole bag in a game of cards."

Looking first at the coffee, then up at her adjutant's face, Tanya was briefly torn. On one hand, it would likely be considered unseemly for a superior officer to encourage such a habit in one of her troops. On the other hand, _Visha's coffee_.

The latter impulse quickly won out. "Viktoriya, have I ever mentioned that you're a wonderful woman?" she grinned, before taking the mug and giving it a sip. It was nearly hot enough to burn her mouth, but she didn't care; it was delicious. She closed her eyes as she savored the taste.

Beside her, she heard a small squeak of surprise from Viktoriya. She briefly wondered if maybe her joke had been a bit too much, but then her Lieutenant replied with audible joy. "No, but thank you very much."

_It's good to see that Visha's able to relax and joke around with me even in a place like this, _Tanya mused as she opened her eyes to regard the brunette. She noted that the other girl's cheeks were a bit red, but she figured that just meant she'd drank a cup already. She supposed that was fair, these were her coffee beans after all. "And thank you for the drink."

Mind and mood restored by the wonderful beverage, Tanya turned back to her desk, ignoring the cursed Orb and reaching for her unfinished report. To her surprise, she felt her subordinate's arms snake around her as Viktoriya stepped around behind the blonde.

_Er, someone's in a touchy-feely mood, _Tanya thought with an involuntary blush as she felt Viktoriya lean against her back. _Did I put her in a flirty mood by joking around or something?_

She glanced down at the mug in her hand. Eh, the report could wait until she was finished with her drink. The blonde shifted on her stool, before leaning back into the embrace. After all, there weren't any backed chairs that were comfortably sized for her available, so she'd had to make due with a stool. But with Visha providing a nice, soft support, well, she might as well take the opportunity to relax her posture for a bit.

As Tanya sipped her coffee, she felt Viktoriya's chin brush against the top of her head. _She really likes this position, doesn't she? _Tanya thought with mild amusement. It was hardly the first time they'd ended up entwined like this. Well, it wasn't unpleasant, so she supposed it was fine.

"More contact reports?" Viktoriya asked, looking down at the partially written paperwork on the desk.

"Mhm," Tanya murmured with a small nod. The movement caused her head to rub against Viktoriya, and a giggle slipped out of the older girl's mouth.

As soon as she realized the noise she had just made, she flushed with embarrassment. "S-sorry, that tickled."

The corner of Tanya's mouth quirked upwards slightly as she raised her mug to her lips again.

"Anyway, um," Viktoriya mumbled, before she seemed to steel herself. "How have you been? We've both been busy these past few weeks."

"Fine, I suppose," Tanya answered non-commitaly, a bit worried. Viktoriya only brought up the topic of her wellbeing if she thought there was a problem. She'd been trying to put up a strong front, to keep her growing concern about the Type 95 from affecting her troops' morale. But if Viktoriya had noticed something was wrong, had the others? The last thing she needed was for her band of war maniacs to start doubting her, especially in this shithole of a city. Her life expectancy would drop rapidly without them ready to act as willing meatshie-

Ahem. Loyal subordinates.

"...I noticed you haven't been wearing the Type 95 recently," Viktoriya noted quietly, her voice shaking Tanya from her thoughts. "It just seemed odd. Usually you keep your Orbs and weapons on you at all times."

_Crap. Alright, time to deflect._

"I've been trying to give it a rest after that overcharged thermic lance spell," Tanya lied, feeling strangely nervous. Maybe it was due to being in such close proximity to the person scrutinizing her, but she couldn't shake the irrational feeling of being caught doing something she shouldn't. It was irritating. She was the ranking officer here, she shouldn't have to explain herself. "You met Doctor Schugel, back on the Rhine. I don't want to push one of _his _prototypes too far, you know? For all I know overusing it could level half the city in a nuclear detonation," she rambled, hoping to shift the conversation away from the topic of herself.

"A what?" Viktoriya interjected, confused.

Tanya's right eye twitched. _Whoops._ "...Never mind. To put it simply, it's a prototype made by Schugel, and if it breaks, we're a long way from anyone who can fix it." She took another sip, relaxing a bit. That wasn't even a lie. Viktoriya, and the rest of the Battalion, should have no reason to doubt an excuse like that. And having them be skeptical of the Type 95's reliability was a lot better than having them be skeptical of her mental state.

"...Is that really it?" Viktoriya asked softly. The tone of her voice made it clear that she found the explanation lacking.

That maddening feeling of having been caught out returned, and Tanya's temper flared in response. "Are you calling me a liar, _Lieutenant?_"

Immediately, she felt Viktoriya flinch, and Tanya felt an odd pang in her chest. "No, I-I just…" she stammered, and started to pull back from her hold on the blonde.

"Wait," Tanya called out on impulse, causing Viktoriya to halt, arms still wrapped loosely around Tanya's upper torso. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" she began, before cutting herself off. _Why am I apologising? I'm the one in charge here, I shouldn't have to justify myself! _she thought with a scowl, looking down at her mug, already close to half-empty. She opened her mouth intending to say as much, but hesitated as she felt Viktoriya's body slowly press back into her. Conflicting feelings warred inside her, as instead of a rebuke, what came out was another apology. "I'm sorry, Visha."

_No, wait, I just established that I have nothing to apologise for! _she immediately thought. _Then why did I…?_

As Tanya tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with the connection between her mind and mouth, Viktoriya tightened her grip, holding her commander close. "No, it's fine. I just...if there is ever anything wrong, I'd like you to tell me, please. And if there's anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask," she murmured. "I care about you, you know?"

Tanya swallowed. She must have drank her coffee a bit too quickly, she mused, because her body was feeling uncomfortably warm all of a sudden. Now that she thought about it, that probably had something to do with her behaving strangely. The heat must have gotten to her head. Right.

She set her mug back on the desk. "I understand. I'm happy to have you looking out for me," she said, hoping to move on from the topic. And really, she should be glad, shouldn't she? Having someone competent watching her back, with a genuine desire to keep her safe, could only be a good thing. Especially if Being X had escalated to directly tampering with her mind-

Tanya stiffened in realization. If Being X was willing to go that far, that meant she couldn't rely on herself. If it was willing to erase her memories, who was to say it wouldn't alter them? And if it did, how would she know? The only way to be certain would be...to have someone else observing her behaviour.

_I've been put in a situation where the one person I absolutely cannot rely on is myself. Curse you, Being X._

"Tanya?" Viktoriya asked in concern, giving the girl in her arms a comforting squeeze.

"I…" she started, still unsure if what she was now considering was a good idea. Conventional wisdom and experience suggested that admitting weakness would only hurt her prospects in the long run. Neither a private company nor a military organization had any incentives to keep an employee whose ability to perform their duty was compromised. A broken cog had no other fate but to be replaced. And, thinking logically, choosing someone with whom she was engaged in a workplace relationship to confide in was a bad idea. It would only increase the amount of damage that could be caused should their relations ever turn sour.

And yet…

Tanya exhaled. There was simply no one else she could trust. A basic risk matrix told her that even if telling Viktoriya had as much or even more potential harm _severity _as doing nothing, the higher harm _probability _of keeping silent made it the inferior choice. After all, Being X had messed with her mind once, it was hopelessly optimistic to think that it wouldn't do so again.

"There's something wrong with the Type 95," she admitted.

Viktoriya was briefly silent, before she asked "What's wrong? Are you really worried about it exploding?"

Shaking her head, Tanya tried to think of a way to explain it that wouldn't immediately make her adjutant run for a medic. Or worse, a military chaplain. _My Computation Orb is possessed by a malevolent metaphysical entity claiming to be God! _she imagined saying. Yeah, that'd go over well.

"No. The issue is with the interface," was the response she settled on. Modern spells were essentially extremely complicated mathematical formulae, so for a Mage to be able to cast through their Orb it had to possess an interface capable of connecting to the user's mind. It seemed safe to assume that was the vector Being X was using to alter her thoughts. "Lately, whenever I've used it, my mental faculties have become...impaired."

"Impaired?" Viktoriya asked quietly. "How?"

_At least she's remaining calm so far. Not that I would have expected Visha to fall into hysterics or anything. She's...become an excellent subordinate._

Tanya saw no reason to sugarcoat things. "Remember the last engagement I used it in? Our attack on this station?"

She felt Viktoriya nod, their heads brushing against each other from the movement.

"I don't," Tanya said, her voice flat.

It took a moment for the realisation to set in, but when it did, Viktoriya inhaled sharply. "I-I see," she said, her voice now thick with worry. "But...this only happens when you use the Type 95, right?"

"Right," Tanya quickly assured her. "That's why I've been reluctant to wear it."

"That makes sense," Viktoriya said nervously, still clearly worried about her commander. "Have you reported it to someone? The General Staff, or the Research Department?"

_This is going to be the hard part, _Tanya scowled. She had to somehow convince an Imperial officer that hiding very important information from their superiors was a good idea. "...No, I haven't."

"What?" Viktoriya asked, her hold on the smaller girl tightening to the point of being painful. "Why? What if there are long-term side effects? You could start to lose more memories, or-"

"Visha," Tanya grunted, squirming in her adjutant's fearful grip. "Too tight."

"Ah! Sorry!" Viktoriya apologised, quickly loosening her hold to a more reasonable level. "But...why haven't you told anyone? This is serious, isn't it? If it happens again, or gets worse..." she trailed off. "...I don't want anything to happen to you," she added softly.

_I don't want anything to happen to me either! _Tanya thought to herself. "If I tell the General Staff that my Computation Orb is messing with my head, I'll end up in one of two places; Schugel's lab, or a sanitarium."

She'd actually weighed the pros and cons of trying to get herself admitted to the latter, as a way of avoiding further battle. Unfortunately, the existence of magic hadn't changed much in the field of psychology. Conditions in mental institutions were just as nightmarish in this world as they had been in the equivalent time period of her old one.

Viktoriya didn't reply, but Tanya could practically sense the worry rolling off of her. She had to choose her next words carefully, she knew, lest her adjutant decide to take matters into her own hands and report the issue herself. "Listen, Visha," she sighed. "It's a problem, I know. But as far as I can tell, the...issues only last as long as I'm using the Orb. As long as I don't use it, I'm perfectly safe."

There was a pause, and she felt the brunette's chest press against her back as she took a deep breath. "Okay," Viktoriya began. "That's good, but what if you end up in another situation where you have no choice but to use it?"

That was her cue. _Sorry, Visha, but I really need to make sure you don't tell on me._

"If that happens," Tanya said, purposefully leaning back further into Viktoriya's embrace. "I need someone I can trust there to keep an eye on me, to make sure I don't do anything I shouldn't."

"Someone you can trust…" Viktoriya echoed, before she straightened in surprise. Though she couldn't see the other girl's face, Tanya imagined Visha's eyes widening in that way they always did when she was startled. "Y-You mean me? But..."

"You said all I had to do was ask, if I needed help," Tanya pointed out, using her subordinate's own words against her. She was fully aware that she was being manipulative in her attempt to get Viktoriya to do what she wanted. It was her intention; after all, she had never been above using others to get ahead or further her own goals. That's why it came as a surprise when she felt herself be struck by a momentary feeling of...regret? Shame? It was a feeling she couldn't quite place, but it was certainly unpleasant.

_Maybe there is something wrong with me… _she mused, somewhat concerned.

"I did say that," Viktoriya muttered hesitantly, drawing Tanya from her moment of self-reflection. "Alright. If you end up having to use the Type 95, I'll make sure to...watch over you."

Tanya smiled in relief. At least the plan had worked. "Thank you."

Viktoriya made a small, morose noise of acknowledgement, and Tanya's smile faded. The Lieutenant was still clearly worried about the whole affair. Well, it was certainly something worth worrying about, but she didn't want Visha's concern to push her to do anything rash, like snitch to the General Staff.

_I should attempt to reassure her, I suppose._

"Visha. It's alright. I'll be fine," she said calmly, and reached up to give Viktoriya a comforting pat on the shoulder. The angle didn't quite work out, however, and her hand ended up hovering awkwardly beside the brunette's head. She paused, and was just about to sheepishly withdraw the hand, when Visha's own moved to meet it.

Viktoriya took Tanya's hand in hers and gently held it against her cheek. It was warm, Tanya noted through her surprise, and she could feel that she was smiling. "I know," she quietly admitted. "A faulty Computation Orb is nothing to Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff," she teased lightly.

Tanya rolled her eyes, her pale cheeks slightly red. _I'm not some kind of action hero, _she grumbled to herself. Well, if Visha was able to make fun of her, she couldn't be that upset.

She reached out with her unoccupied left hand and spun her coffee mug around so she could grab the handle. A quick taste revealed that it hadn't quite gone cold yet, so she set herself to the task of finishing it before it could do so. A comfortable silence fell upon the two, broken only by Tanya's occasional sips. Reclining in her adjutant's arms and enjoying her drink, she didn't even notice as she began to unconsciously caress Viktoriya's cheek with her thumb. The brunette certainly didn't stop her.

_Mm. This is nice… _Tanya wanted to sigh. The...coffee really was fantastic.

And then her wonderful, relaxing moment came to a screeching halt as the door that Viktoriya had forgotten to lock was nudged open.

"Colonel, are you in he-" began Lieutenant Grantz, an urgent tone in the young man's voice as he poked his head in the door. The moment his eyes landed on the still entwined pair, he froze, his words cutting off abruptly. Tanya's head jerked in his direction, her expression akin to that of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding vehicle.

Before either blonde could even try to come up with a response, Viktoriya lowered their connected hands to Tanya's lap and turned to face Grantz, somewhat embarrassed but otherwise calm. "Er, is something wrong, Grantz? The Colonel and I were in the middle of discussing something."

_...That's all you have to say?! _Tanya's brain finally managed. She couldn't understand how Visha could be so calm. Their relationship broke pretty much every regulation on conduct befitting of an Imperial officer. Having it be discovered was a disaster!

Ignorant of his superior's escalating panic, Grantz simply straightened up, staring roughly a meter off to the left of the two. "A-A platoon of friendly heavy tanks and assault guns were just spotted approaching our position, and they've got what looks like an entire Grenadier company with them!"

Tanya blinked, her instincts as a commander rising up to war with her current panic. After a brief struggle, her professionalism won out.

"Have-" she began, before cutting herself off as her voice came out a pitch higher than she intended. _Shit! Forget about what he saw! Focus on the most pressing issue! _she berated herself. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Have we received anything on the radio?"

"No ma'am," Grantz replied.

Tanya closed her eyes and exhaled sharply. _Great. _Eyes snapping back open, she slammed her mug down on the desk and made to stand, gently pulling away from Viktoriya's grasp. "I'd better go see what's going on, then. Serebryakov, with me."

She heard Visha chime an affirmative, the brunette falling in behind her as she strode towards the door. Grantz quickly backed out of the doorway and stood off to the side as she approached, swallowing nervously.

As Tanya was passing by, she paused, glaring up at him from beneath her peaked cap. "Not a word about anything you just saw," she hissed, her voice low enough that only he could hear her.

Grantz paled and nodded.

Slightly mollified, Tanya marched off down the hall with her adjutant in tow. As soon as they'd left the terrified young man behind, Viktoriya sighed in audible relief.

"We were really lucky that it was someone who already knew we were together that found us…" she muttered. "I'll make extra sure to lock the door next time."

Tanya nodded. "See that you do-" she snapped irritably, before stumbling as she processed the rest of Viktoriya's statement. Her boots squeaked as they slid on the tile flooring, and only her subordinate's quick reflexes in grabbing her by the arm prevented her from face-planting into the floor. She turned to look at the other girl, incredulous. "What do you mean, _already knew_?!"

Viktoriya looked away, sheepish, and pulled her hand back. She seemed suddenly unable to look her commander in the eye. "W-Well, I had a talk with Grantz a while back, and it helped me figure out that I loved you-"

This time it was Tanya's turn to look away, her cheeks burning under the shadow of her cap. She was...simply checking the hallway, to make sure no one was around to overhear.

"-but, um, I may have let it slip that the person I was talking about was a girl and that kind of left you as the only possibility and I didn't realize that until much later and when I went back to ask him not to tell anyone he got really pale and looked like he was about to collapse so I had to take him to the medical tent-" Viktoriya rambled, nervousness causing her words to come out in a jumble as she rushed to explain herself.

"Lieutenant!" Tanya interjected, looking back to Visha. The taller girl immediately shut her mouth with a small squeak, back going rigid. Tanya sighed at the sight. "Enough, Visha, calm down. If Lieutenant Grantz hasn't said anything by now then I...suppose the secret is safe with him. Just make sure no one else finds out."

Viktoriya noticeably relaxed at the lack of a rebuke, and nodded sheepishly. "Understood."

With a bemused shake of her head, Tanya turned and resumed walking. Her thoughts returned to the supposed friendlies headed their way, and what their unannounced presence might mean. At the back of her mind, however, she contemplated the issue of Lieutenant Grantz being in on their secret, and if she should do something about it.

_It sounded like Serebryakov already took the liberty of intimidating him into silence. Maybe I should play good cop, and offer some kind of incentive for him to cooperate…_

* * *

_PERMISSION GRANTED TO BEGIN OPERATION CAELUS. CORPS UNDER MARSHAL TULSHENKO ARE TO BEGIN IMMEDIATE CROSSING OF THE VOLGA. ONCE THE MAIN IMPERIAL FORCES ARE COMMITTED, GENERALS ROSSOLOV AND VASILIY ARE TO INITIATE PHASE TWO._

_REMEMBER, COMRADES, THE MOTHERLAND IS COUNTING ON YOU. NOT ONE STEP BACK!_


End file.
